


Tied Up

by CannibalKats



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 06:45:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6273952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asala's ex-husband has taught her to expect the worst from her partners, but Iron Bull is not her ex-husband and she's starting to understand that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tied Up

She takes the stairs two at a time, cursing under her breath as she does.  She’d promised him, crossed her heart and hoped to die _promised him_.  The governess would be in Skyhold in the morning and if he could just get the girls tucked away into bed this one last time while she finished her paperwork she would spend the evening with him.  An entire evening just them, no kids, no chargers, no wicked grace with the gang; just the two of them alone without any interruptions.

Paperwork had turned into a quick meeting in the war room.  A quick meeting in the war room had turned into a heated argument about troop placements and their diplomatic consequences.  The argument had resulted in more paperwork.  Now it was long past any excusable lateness and she’d be lucky if he hadn’t retreated to the tavern rather than wait on her any longer.

She can already hear him snoring when she opens the door.  She closes it quietly behind her and leans against it for a moment saying a quiet prayer to the maker for such a patient partner.  She chastises herself under her breath; _Bull is not Micah, stop expecting Micah when you have Bull_.  A refrain she finds herself whispering more often than not.  _Bull won’t leave, Bull won’t yell, Bull will understand, Bull isn’t Micah._

When she crests the last of the stairs to her living space her heart leaps with the sight.  Bull is face down across her bed arms folded under his forehead snoring peacefully, ambivalent to the scene around him.  Ashkaari is stretched out on the lounger under a pile of furs, and Sataa is sat cross legged on Bulls back humming to herself with a paintbrush in her hand.

Asala keeps quiet at the top of the stairs watching the adorable source of the destruction.  Bull’s horns are painted in bright splashes of pinks and blues and oranges, his back is reds and purples and greens, there are ribbons and yarn tied from horn to buckle to bedpost.  She laughs at the absurdity of it.

“Mom?” Ashkaari yawns.

“Shhh.”

It’s too late, Sataa squeals out the word Mom like a battle cry and digs her knee into the small of Bull’s back in an effort to launch herself at her mother.  Bull grunts but he only lifts his head enough to flash a lopsided grin at Asala.

“You should see yourself right now.”  She laughs putting Sataa back on the ground and starting to free him from the littlest girls makeshift prison.

“Hey kid, get an old man a mirror, let’s see your handiwork.”

The girls scurry to find their mother’s hand mirror, Askaari gloating and dancing around her sister when she finally uncovers it on the desk.

Bull frowns into the mirror and then frowns at Sataa while Asala continues to work the knots out of the ribbons and yarns confining him to her bed. 

“I thought you said pink was your favorite colour, I was expecting more pink.”

“Dad says that boys don’t really like pink,” Askaari interjects.  Sataa nods solemnly.

“Well you’re Dad’s a fucking idiot,” Bull grunts.  Asala slaps him on the arm.  “Sorry.  Your Dad doesn’t speak for all boys, ok kids?  Next time more pink.”

Asala finishes with the last knot as a round of cheers fills the room.  Bull stands up, a child dangling from each arm in an effort to display his new found freedom.  Ribbons and yarn flow like sparse brightly coloured hair from his horns and in his ridiculous motley pants he looks like more of a clown than a fearsome warrior.

She gathers up the paints and scraps while Bull swings and chases the girls around the room, she lays back on the bed when she’s done and watches them play.  Bull still covered in paint and ribbons, whoops and laughs dramatically falls to the ground when the girls tackle his legs.

Bull is not Micah, and Bull is not their father, but Bull makes them happy, and Bull makes her happy and that’s more important than blood.

 


End file.
